Point of Regret
by StealthHippo
Summary: Undercover, Tony DiNardo approaches Jeanne Benoit for the first time.


**NCIS – Point of Regret**

* * *

 _ **Early Summer, 2006**_

It was easy to miss beneath all of his pomp and swagger, but special agent Anthony DiNozzo was good at his job. Better than good – and he knew it – so others were hesitant to bring it up. In truth, his raw abilities were the only reason that his antics were even tolerated. But since Gibbs' departure, the DiNozzo Show had tamed. Treating the bullpen as a frat house just wasn't the same without the boss. _Act like a clown, get yourself caught, and then impress the hell out of them_ –that's DiNozzo 101. At least it had been.

But you don't wring the _frat_ out of the _boy_ that quickly and as Tony reviewed Jeanna Benoit's case file he felt his _swagger_ stir. Even in the surveillance photos her eyes seemed to find his own. This was going to be the easiest undercover assignment he'd ever had – _and he was being paid for it_. Swagger.

* * *

 _ **Monroe University Hospital, Children's Ward, 1:32am**_

The kid was still staring at him. DiNozzo had tried his patented half-smile with a head nod but the kid wasn't having it.

He had imagined himself in a private room when he met Dr. Benoit, not in an open ward with five other patients –the oldest of which seemed to be about ten. A nurse had led Tony to a bed at the center of the far wall and the _kid_ had clocked him the whole way, as if he knew that the undercover agent's limp were fake.

The young boy – perhaps eight or nine – had a full cast on one leg and a partial on his wrist and thumb. Now, sitting on the adjacent bed, Tony shifted sideways and tried again. "Chicks dig casts," he said, clearly impressed. "What was it… motorcycle accident?" The kid's expression did not waver. "No?" Tony pondered a bit and then gave a decisive snap of his fingers, pointing straight at the boy. "Your 'chute didn't open!" Nothing. The young patient's eyes narrowed. The DiNozzo Show was definitely out of practice.

Finally, a smile bent the corners of the boy's mouth. Just as Tony turned up his palms, ready to take the credit, he saw that the kid's eyes were looking beyond. He turned, following the sightline. Dr. Jeanne Benoit was crossing the ward. An unexpected lapse of concentration struck the agent. Without even realizing it, Tony had mirrored the boy's smile.

Her hair was pulled back, but frazzled and had come loose on one side – like her lab coat, off kilter – yet somehow just right. It was the image of a woman who cared about her job and her patients, and didn't have time for a mirror. DiNozzo nodded as she approached, prepared to speak, but she walked by without a glance.

"Nicholas," she said, as she stepped up to the young boy's bedside. He was beaming, trying to push himself up in spite of his injuries. Tony couldn't help but look on. He understood now the reason for the boy's territorial demeanor (he was beginning to feel it a bit himself). And then, with all the flourish of a magician, the two disappeared. A practiced whip of the doctor's arm had sent the curtain racing along its ceiling runner and Tony was abruptly alone.

The agent leaned left and then to the right, trying to find a seam in the fabric. If he had questioned his motivations, he might have walked away right then, but Tony wanted to look at her again –pencil propped behind her ear –only the slightest hint of makeup. The fact that he was here to cultivate this woman as an asset had faded to some distant recess of his brain. As simple and naive as it sounded, he just wanted to look at her again.

He spotted a small gap in the curtain segments, and with a subtle scoot he was able to watch her work. He had no illusions as to where this assignment might lead. If he were honest with himself, he had been excited about the prospect –looking forward to the challenge. But now, seeing her in those pink scrubs, helping an injured boy, he was beginning to feel his resolve waver.

Tony stood. There had to be a better way to handle this. He would be the first to point out that you can't judge a person by their father. Abandoning his limp, he started for the exit –but then he froze. The telltale shuffle of curtain rings had sounded from behind.

"Are you leaving?" There was no accusation in the young doctor's tone, yet Tony felt as though he'd been caught in some shameful act. He turned and gave her a lopsided grin but his eyes were unconvincing. As she approached, his mouth went dry and his voice faltered.

At length, she filled the silence, "I'm Dr. Benoit; what's brought you here so late?" She rounded the foot of his bed frame and picked up his chart. _There were those eyes_. The doctor waited for a reply and then she looked down at his paperwork. "Mr. DiNardo?"

"Yes. Yes, that's me... I'm Tony DiNardo," he lied. He limped back to the bed and sat on its edge. He had planned for this moment. He knew exactly what he was going to say, but the only words that seemed right were, "I'm sorry."

* * *

 _ **Ohio State University, 1987**_

Amid the crooked couches and semi-functioning recliners, at the center of the Alpha Chi Delta common room, the DiNozzo Show was in high-gear. Tony raised a beer mug to his frat brothers and shouted, "You people are making this game way too hard." He turned a full circle to gain the crowd's approval. "It's simple. I don't have a _Point of Regret_."

The collective voice booed in disapproval but Tony held up a silencing hand with confidence.

"No, no… now listen. If I could go back to any _point_ of my life, it would be one week before the Superbowl." He raised his voice, "And I'd put everything I have on the Giants!"

DiNozzo took down the last of his beer to the sound of drunken cheers, and then he continued, "Now that, dear brothers, is as complicated as my life is ever gonna get!" _Swagger._

* * *

– **END**

 _For the rest of the story, watch season four._


End file.
